


Of Perfume, Liquor, and Baby Bottles

by Fluttering_Phalanges



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Book: Catching Fire, F/M, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluttering_Phalanges/pseuds/Fluttering_Phalanges
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Effie was always one who kept on schedule. Even when a mishap occurred, she always had a back up plan. But, when an unplanned event pulls both Effie and Haymitch down an unexpected road of many twists and turns, there is no back up plan to pull them out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Boundaries of Properness

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, Jen here. For those who follow me on fanfiction.net, you've probably already read a lot of this story, but I wanted to post it on this site for the sake of having it in another location in case my computer decides to delete all that I love.
> 
> Art done by the fabulous omnomnomnom247! Please make sure to check out her amazing art and her tumblr: http://nomnomnom247.deviantart.com/ and http://omnomnomnom247.tumblr.com/

Chapter one: On the Boundaries of Properness

A Quick Insight from Effie:

Behavior. That's what defines each individual whether you are from the Capitol or from the very low class of District Twelve. My mother used to tell that to me as a child. It was always, "Effie, sit up straighter in your chair. Young ladies of Panem do not slouch." or "Effie, darling, do hurry up. You are expected to be at your studies in exactly one hour and you know how important promptness is." And I respected my mother for drilling such a topic as the importance of proper behavior into my young mind. It got me where I am today.

Of course, I expected the position I landed in would entitle me to deal with others who—unlike myself, had mothers who did not see one's behavior as the most important aspect of daily life. And I did prepare myself as best I could but of course, being that citizens of the Capitol were of no comparison to those in District Twelve, I found myself utterly disgusted by most mannerisms they—the tributes I escorted, exhibited. And then of course, there was Haymitch…

Haymitch, probably the rudest and most primitive—I refer to it as that because he might as well be living in a cave the way he keeps himself groomed, man I had ever met. I cannot count the number of times I nearly vomited at the sight and smell of him. It took all of my efforts and all of my training to keep myself sane when I first became acquainted with him. Though, as my mother would say, with a bit of coaxing and tough—well I'd rather not use the word "love" at the moment, anything was possible. So, whenever I found myself around him, I managed to press forth the idea of a shower once in awhile and a uniform change. It didn't always work but I made sure that at least when we were visible to the important head figures from the Capitol during the Hunger Games events, he was "acceptable" a term I use lightly when saying.

I could put up with Haymitch—for short periods of time of course because, after all, there is only so much peeving a person such as myself can take. So, our short visits with one another while the Hunger Games go on are enough to last me a good while…

But, unfortunately, I guess after being around someone enough, you grow a liking for them—much to my dismay. It wish I didn't. His manners, his attitude, he made me so angry, livid to put it better. But, there was something about him that—and my mother would turn in her grave if she knew, attracted me to him. And maybe that's why I showed up two months earlier than necessary to discuss the schedule for the Victory Tour with him. Maybe there was a deeper meaning to my visit rather than just my concerns of making sure everything was perfect. Little did I know, the outcome of that visit would dramatically change my life and his.

xXx

"Haymitch Abernathy!" I call, growing impatient as I knock yet again on the door of his home in the Victor's Village.

I knew he was awake, probably having a good laugh about me standing outside in the cold. That was Haymitch for you. Always finding some way—whether it be on purpose or just his usual self, to annoy me. The wind blows causing a shiver to spread through my body as I wrap on the door once more, cursing myself for not wearing my warm mink coat like Cinna had suggested when I had called to inform him and Portia that I would be paying a visit to District twelve. Then again, there was always the possibility something inside Haymitch's house would ruin it…

"Haymitch!" I snap, the cold causing my ability to mask any mood I'm usually with a smile to fade. "I know you can hear me! Open this door immediately! I—"The door opens and there before me looms a figure reeking of alcohol and sweat. Haymitch. "Well, it's about time!" I huff, straightening my hat as the wind has blown it crooked on my head.

Haymitch grunts and I push myself into his home before he has time to shut the door. The ungodly stench of alcohol reaches my nose as I make my way across the floor littered with empty liquor bottles and into what probably once was a very nice living room.

"You know," Haymitch reaches down and manages to find an unopened bottle amidst the rubble. "It's improper," he mimics my tone of voice as he opens his bottle, taking a rather large swig of the stuff before clearing his throat. "To come to a person's house unannounced to them."

"Well I tried calling." I say getting a bit defensive. "Several times actually but you never answered. I suppose the phone was off the hook or something…"

"Didn't feel like answering it." He takes another gulp and exhales. I frown deeply at his comment but decide not to press it further. After all, I would get no where with him on that. "So Princess," I stiffen at that name. I had told him on several occasions to refer to me as Effie but for some reason, he seemed to find that more fitting. "What has made you decide to come and annoy the hell out of me this time?" He lets out a sarcastic laugh before flopping down on what I now see is a filthy couch. "I thought I had at least another two months before having to endure another lecture about my despicable appearance. Has my stench reached the Capitol or something?"

He's drunk but there's no surprise there. Taking a deep breath to maintain my composure, I manage to find a nearby chair that has not been too dirtied up and careful take my seat. I flip through the neatly written pages on my clipboard until I locate the section entitled 'Victory Tour'.

"Well," I exhale, forcing a smile onto my face. "I just thought I'd come early and discuss the details of the Victory Tour with you." He lets out another sarcastic laugh but I continue anyways. "Anyway, as you know, in three months the tour is to begin and—"

His hand extends forward before I can finish. "Princess, I've been on the tour before. I doubt much has changed and if it has, I really honestly don't give a damn." I inhale sharply as he finishes his bottle of liquor. How rude of him to interrupt me like that! I don't ever interrupt him…usually.

"Well, as this will be your first time touring as a mentor, I thought it best that we—" He tosses his bottle on the floor. I wince as it clinks with another, unsure of if it shattered. I'd be careful to watch where I was walking when I finally decided to leave. "Anyway, I just think it's very important that we make sure Katniss and Peeta's schedules are perfect and everything goes according to plan."

"If it's their schedules, then why are you discussing it with me and not them?" I blink a few times, trying my best to not lash out. After all, it was not at all proper to do such a thing.

"Well, as their mentor, I thought that maybe—"And again, I am interrupted.

"Look Princess, neither I, Katniss, or Peeta really care exactly what time we arrive at a destination or where to be at certain points, isn't it obvious that none of us are even wishing to go on this damn tour in the first place?"

I bit my lip. "Don't call me Princess and how do you know they aren't excited? You're drunk most of the time and are oblivious to half the things that are going on around you!" I slap a hand to my mouth once I realize my mistake. An outburst. Now I was becoming just as good as him.

Haymitch expression does not change as he reaches for another bottle. "You forget, Princess." His tone is serious. "I was them once and," He opens his bottle and before I have time to even blink he drains it dry. "And I realize more of what's going on than you think I do." He tosses it aside, an expression on his face that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. "Much more."

We're silent for a few minutes. I have never really been at a loss for words before. I place my hands over one another as I do my best to keep from nervously picking at my nails. You would never have known it from looking at my well kept nails, but I was quite the nail bitter—visit the manicure place every Wednesday.

"I'm sorry." I finally manage to say. "I shouldn't have snapped." To my surprise, Haymitch actually lets out what I think is a genuine laugh.

"Made you seem human for a minute." And I'm not sure whether to take his words as a compliment or an insult. So, instead, I focus on the empty bottle in his hands.

"How can you stand the taste?" He lifts an eyebrow in response to my question. "It smells horrible. It can't possibly taste good." I thought about mentioning how it was rude that he hadn't offered me, his guest, anything to eat or drink, but I wasn't sure if what it had would be worth asking for.

"Burns like hell going down." He mumbled, tossing yet another bottle aside. "But that's what it's supposed to do. Far better than any drug your Capitol could make."

I look down at the floor for a moment, taking in for the first time how many empty bottles there are. Shaking my head, I left my eyes to meet his. "Well, I wouldn't have time for such a drink anyway. I have far more important things to focus on. You have no idea how much planning I've put into this," I shake the clipboard at him.

He rolls his eyes and I watch him lift two bottles from the floor. I can't hold back a small huff of disgust as I think of him drinking two more bottles of that horrid drink.

"Haven't you had enough?" I chide, thinking of the three bottles I saw him drink previously, not wanting to know how many he had drunk before my arrival." But, I'm a bit taken aback when he tosses one towards me.

"Also good for stress." He gives me a smug look before nodding at the bottle. "That one's on the house."

I'm shocked. Why did he just toss me a bottle? Had I somehow implied I wanted one? I tried to think back but nothing I had said made me think that I had given him the idea I wanted a taste but actually, implied the exact opposite. I stared down at the bottle in my hands as my mind flashed to my mother's lecture on manners. "Always accept a drink from your host, even if you don't like it." She had once said. But, did that even apply to Haymitch? I inhale sharply as I pop off the top, the smell fumes out causing me to feel a bit dizzy.

"Go on," He grunted, nodding towards my hands. "It ain't gonna kill you. At least," He laughs sarcastically, "Not yet anyways." And I wonder if he's referring to his own drinking.

Without thinking, I thrust the bottle into my mouth and take a rather large gulp. He's right about the burn. My eyes water in pain as it slides down my throat leaving a sizzling pain behind. But, it's quite odd, it, in a way, feels good. Very good. So much so that I find myself taking another sip and then another until reality grows hazy and I sink into a fantasy, a dream, that only a bright light and a searing headache pull me out from. And that's when I find myself in bed. Not my bed but a dirty, yellowed sheets, liquor reeking bed that takes me only a minute to put two and two together.

In my drunken stupor, I, Effie Trinket, had slept with none other than Haymitch Abernathy.


	2. Dining and Dashing

Chapter two: Dining and Dashing

I planned never to mention what happened between me and Haymitch that night several weeks back to anyone. I had enough stress on myself as it was and did not need rumors floating about that I was having relations with the drunken victor from District Twelve. Before I had left the morning after our...encounter...I made him swear not to tell anyone. I threatened that if he did, I would make sure that every drop of liquor was confiscated from his quarters. Of course, being Haymitch, he just laughed and muttered something offensive before heading back to his bottle. I wasn't sure what upset me more, the fact that he found my worries about people finding out we had sex humorous or that he merely shrugged off the fact that we had as if it were nothing.

Although, it was a bit relieving that I only seemed to be the one feeling awkward about it and not him. It would make things easier when I had to see him again within the next two weeks for the Victory Tour. It would be just as if nothing had ever happened. I would be myself making sure everything was in order and going as according to plan, Katniss and Peeta would be getting camera-ready with the help of their prep teams for the crowds of citizens who awaited their appearance, and Haymitch would be the drunken mentor who always seemed to find a way to to embarrass me. Things would be back to normal and soon, I would be forgetting that this had ever happened.

xXx

As the Victory Tour draws nearer, I find myself fretting more and more over the scheduling of it all. As embarrassing as it is to admit, my worrying has become so much that I find myself nauseous quite often. Luckily, I have had access to several varieties of pills that are for calming the nerves so that I appear calm and collected out in public. But, even medicine cannot make a mind that is so set on perfection relax.

To eliminate some stress, I invite Cinna and Portia out to lunch to discuss their final plans of what outfits the victors shall be wearing. Unlike Haymitch, these two are far more polite and seem more keen on going over the scheduled events with me. Because of this, I decide that this occasion calls for more of formal attire than what I wore to when I visited Haymitch-meaning, I decide to wear the mink coat I forgot to take with me to Haymitch's along with a violet wig to match my newly manicured nails.

"You look ravishing today, Effie. And might I add what a lovely new wig that is. The violet very much compliments your eyes." Cinna smiles as he lifts his glass of water to his lips taking a sip. I smile appreciatively at him comment because-unlike Haymitch, when he gives compliments, they are genuine.

"Well that's very kind of you to say." I reply, my hands absentmindly adjusting the faux-curls on my head. "I saw it in the salon and I couldn't resist."

Portia nods in agreement, her eyes fixed on my wig. "I do believe I saw that same one." She smiles as her eyes meet mine. "I was in search of some inspiration when I came across it in a store window. I was drawn to the color immediately. I was just telling Cinna before you arrived that I think a silk dress, along with some pearls, of that color would be a wonderful outfit for Katniss to wear at District Nine."

A smile grows on Cinna's face as he now eyes my wig with even more interest. "Now that I have the color in front of me, I do see what you mean, Portia." He takes a pen and scribes something down quickly in a notebook he has before him. "I'll make a few calls tonight to see if we can have the fabric made." He sets down his pen and looks at me once more. "Thank you for the inspiration, Effie. Or rather, your wig's coloring inspiration."

I chuckle politely at his semi joke. "Well, it's a very fine color to say the least." I lift up my glass of water and take a sip ignoring the fact that my stomach has begun to churn. I should've brought those pills with me.

"Oh, how rude of me." Portia says as I set down my glass. "I forgot to ask how your visit with Haymitch went." I feel my stomach twist into a knot as she mentions my journey to see Haymitch. Quickly, I mask my surprise with a slight smile as she continues. "Cinna and I have been so busy preparing, that we forgot to call and see how things went."

"Haymitch was his usual self." Portia and Cinna chuckle softly at my comment. "I didn't really get anywhere with him. As you know, this sort of activity is not his cup of tea." I look down into my lap for a split second and notice that I have twisted my napkin into a misshapen form. Taking a deep breath, I remove my hands from my lap and lift my eyes to the faces of Cinna and Portia. "So, it was a lost cause to begin with. Unfortunately, I didn't run into Katniss or Peeta. I meant to visit them too but something occurred and I had to leave earlier than expected." I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as I lie.

"That's too bad." Cinna replies with much sympathy in his voice. "I do owe Katniss a call. If there's anything you'd like me to convey to her, I'd be more than happy to."I appreciate his words and as I'm about to reply, the waiter appears with bowls of steaming hot pheasant soup laden with a sort of shaved green vegetable as decoration. My stomach twists at the smell and it takes all that I have to keep from gagging.

"Mm, smells delightful." Portia smiles as she adjusts the placement setting of her utensils as the waiter sets down her bowl. "Thank you."

Cinna removes his notebook from the table and graciously accepts a bowl of soup. I try to hide my discomfort as a bowl is set in front of me. Usually, I love soup-tomato being my favorite flavor, but at the moment, the mere smell of it makes my stomach flip inside out.

"Effie," Cinna's voice breaks my thought process. I look to see both him and Portia eyeing me with a look of concern. "Are you alright? You've gone pale."

"Oh, well, I..." I let out a nervous chuckle, racking my brain as I try to think of an excuse. I did not plan on sharing the information that I was feeling ill to my stomach while we sat around the lunch table. "It must be the lighting. They just dimmed it. I'm trying out this new foundation and it seems not to be that flattering in this light." I suddenly feel very warm as I try to nonchalantly fan myself with my hand.

"Are you sure you're alright, Effie?" Portia asks with much worry laced into each word. "At least let me call the waiter to bring you another glass of ice water."

I nodded gratefully at her comment. "Yes, yes, thank you. I do believe ice water will help me." I'm blushing with embarrassment now. How silly I must look.

Portia motions for the waiter to come over and in a matter of seconds, a fresh glass of ice water is placed before me. I lift the glass to my lips and drink it slowly, feeling slightly better as the cool water runs down my throat.

"I feel much better now." I assure them. "I guess it must be the heat or something. I will make sure of putting a complaint in when I see the manager." This makes them both smile but I believe it's because they are relieved.

"So," Cinna begins after finishing his first spoonful of soup. "I assume we need to be focusing much on what Katniss and Peeta will be wearing at the Capitol. I expect there will be many wardrobe changes they both will be making while there."

I force down a spoonful of soup as I listen to him intently. "There are many banquets that I have set up for them to attend to, the biggest being at President Snow's residences." My stomach gurgles unpleasantly and I blush with embarrassment at the thought that Cinna and Portia might have heard it. When no sign of that they had appears on their faces, I continue. "So, for the Capitol, at least six different outfits for each victor. I don't think it would look that good if they wore the same thing twice." They both nod in agreement.

"I have plenty of designs set for Katniss and I know Portia has the same for Peeta." Portia nods at Cinna's comment and gives him a smile. "So, we should be alright." He smiles warmly at me before looking over at Portia.

"Cinna and I are set." Portia grins, "For anything that comes are way. We have an outfit for any occasion."

My stomach churns even more when Cinna lifts his glass up in the air. "I propose a toast." He smiles, looking from Portia to me. "For the Victory Tours. May everything go perfectly as planned."

Portia lifts her glass towards Cinna's and I do the same. I open my mouth to reply as our glasses clink, but to my horror, at that exact moment, I lose control of my stomach. Glass shatters, water spills, my vomit splatters onto the sleeve of my mink coat, mixing with my soup to form an unappetizing color, and the horrified faces of those around me.

Mortified. That's putting it lightly how I feel at this exact moment.


	3. A Word of Many Meanings

Chapter three: A Word of Many Meanings

Humiliated. Mortified. Disgusted. So many words I could use to describe how I feel at this exact moment as I stare in horror down at the mess I have created. Oh how I wish I could just disappear. What else could one do when faced with a situation as horrifying as this?

"Come on, Effie." I feel someone give my shoulder a gentle squeeze. Turning my head slightly, I see Portia standing over me, her jacket stretched out in her hands. "Let's get you cleaned up."

To my surprise, she pulls her jacket around me, hiding the splatters of vomit on my outfit, before helping me up. I open my to thank her but all that escapes is a sob. Portia seems to understand my growing embarrassment as our pace quickens only to slow once we have reached the bathroom.

"Cinna will straighten things out in the dining area." Her words are meant to sooth me as she opens the door, leading me inside before locking it. "Now, let's see what I can fix up on your outfit."

I don't argue as she slips the jacket off and eyes the drying putrid smelling spots that now cover me. A small smile that seems to hold much sympathy appears on her lips as she quickly wets a few paper towels and dabs at stain delicately.

"It's really not that bad." She tosses the now dirtied towels into the trash. "Nothing a good washing can't fix. Once I spilled red ink all over my white cardigan that I was planning to wear to a dear friend's birthday party later on that night." I swallow hard trying to keep the tears that are spilling in as she grabs more moistened towels. "Oh it was awful and there was really no way to hide it. But, I had once read somewhere that hairspray worked wonders when trying to get ink stains out of clothing. So, I thought about giving it a try because really, how much more damage could I cause to it? Well, to my surprise, it actually worked. No stains and my outfit was ready to wear to the party." She chuckles softly as she steps back looking me up and down. "There, that looks much better."

I force a smile as I glance down. Now my dress looks as if it has dark polka dots covering certain places around my midsection. Quickly, I place my hand over my mouth to stifle back a sob. Why on earth was I so emotional all of a sudden? Granted, I did just embarrass myself in front of two of my colleagues, but that was no excuse for all of these tears.

"I'm…I'm terribly sorry, Portia. I do not know what has come over me. I ruined Cinna's and your lunch and now I can't stop weeping." I take a few shaky breaths in an attempt to get a hold of my self. "I promise, I will pay for the entire lunch and any dry cleaning your's and Cinna's clothes might need."

Portia merely shakes her head before giving my shoulder another squeeze. "Oh Effie, these things happen. Don't beat yourself up about it." I take a tissue she hands me and blow my nose. "And as for lunch and the clothes, don't you worry about a thing. I was planning to get rid of this old jacket anyways."

"That's very kind of you." I reply, dabbing at my eyes with another tissue she hands me. "But I must insist. It'll make me feel better if you both allow me to pay, at least for the lunch." Portia nods as I toss my soiled tissues into the trash can. "Honestly, I don't know what is going on with me lately. Perhaps I need to up my dosage of anxiety pills."

I watch as Portia's brow furrows with concern. "Maybe you should see a doctor, Effie. How long has this been going on?"

"Well for about a week or so now." I tell her honestly as I make my way over to the mirror to adjust my wig. "It's probably because of the approaching Victory Tour. It's my first one and I have to make sure everything is perfect. A lot of stress is put on the escorts as you know." She nods comprehensively but by her expression, she seems to be deep in thought.

"You shouldn't put so much stress on yourself, Effie." I frown a little at her response. "It's not good for you and clearly, you already have everything planned out. So, what is there to still worry about?"

"There are plenty of things that still need to be done." I say pushing a stray strand of my blond hair back up underneath my wig. "And I will not be fully relaxed about this until the Victory Tour has passed."

"Well, at least let me hook you up with a friend of mine." Portia says as she folds her jacket neatly in half. "His name is Montgomery Pritchitt. He's a doctor and maybe he could just give you a quick look over and prescribe something. You don't want to make yourself sick over all of this stress." She was right. I wouldn't want that at all.

"I would very much appreciate something that would settle my stomach." I admit, "The medication I've been taking hasn't done much I must say." I examine my makeup in the mirror making sure my incident in the dining room didn't cause any smudges. "And I'd rather not have another spell while on the Victory Tour. I've had enough mortification to last a lifetime."

"No, we wouldn't want that." Portia agrees, "I'm sure he'd be happy to see you at anytime. He's a dear friend and when it comes to something involving me or a friend, he's schedule can become quite flexible."

I smile at her words. A friend. She considers me a friend. That was nice to know. I really-and I'm embarrassed to admit, that the smallest part of me worried that she'd go about spreading the news that I had lost control of my stomach in a very popular restaurant. It was such a silly thing to possible dwell upon. After all, even if we weren't friends, Portia and Cinna both definitely had enough class not to do such a monstrous thing.

"Shall I call and make you an appointment?" Portia's voice causes me to break my trail of thoughts. "I wouldn't be surprised if he could see you today even. That is, if you'd like of course."

"Well I do have a bit of free time in my schedule." I say thinking back to what events I have planned for today. "It'll be nice having something to fill that empty time gap up with."

Portia seems pleased by my willingness to see her friend. "Well, I'll go make the arrangements then." She smiles at me before taking my hand in her's. "Now I'll have one less thing to worry about." I wonder what she means by that as gives my hand a pat before releasing it. "Shall we go check up on Cinna? I don't want him to think we left." She laughs and I realize she meant the last bit as a joke. So, to be polite, I laugh softly and nod.

"Yes, it's about time we go back. I'd rather not keep either of you from any activities you have today. You've already done so much for me as it is and the least I can do is not make you late." This makes Portia laugh.

"Oh Effie, you needn't apologize. Like I said, you're a friend. We'd feel terrible if we didn't help you out." Her hand grasps the door knob and turns it with a slight flick of her wrist, pushing it open effortlessly.

"I cannot thank you enough." I say, "For everything. I promise, I'll find a way to repay you both. Of course, by starting off with your dry cleaning bill."

Portia merely laughs and shakes her head. I swear she said something along the lines of 'Oh Effie' but it was too soft for me to hear. Sometimes stylists can be so confusing. All I want to do is repay them and they don't seem to want it. I guess I'll never fully understand their thought process.

Taking a deep breath, I follow after Portia, not wanting to be slow and hold them up even more than I already had.

xXx

As Portia had promised, I find myself later on that day in a rather tropical fish filled patient room in a small doctor's office not too far from my apartment. It had surprised me when I realized what Portia had said about this man's flexible schedules was true. Never had I ever had room in my schedules to flex things, my itineraries kept to a strict timing process, one of which I very disliked to break.

There's a knock on the door that causes me to jump slightly. Carefully, I wrap the thin gown I was made to wear for this appointment around me tighter, feeling rather exposed when wearing this material. I never did like the outfits patients were made to wear at hospitals and doctors' offices. Perhaps when I have time, I'll discuss more appealing wear options with those who are in charge of this sort of thing.

"Come in." I call, my voice sounding somewhat meek.

The door opens and in walks a man around forty years of age, his hair-obviously starting to thin, dyed a light blue and combed off to the side. He gives me a smile as he shuts the door, clipboard with my chart attached in his hands.

"Ah," He nods, peering down at his clipboard for a split second. "You must be Ms. Effie Trinket." He extends his hand and I take it. "Portia has told me much about you. All good things of course." We shake for a few seconds before he let's go of my hand. "I'm Dr. Pritchitt as I'm sure you know already. Now," I watch as he scans my chart once more before looking at me. "Portia mentioned you were having a problem with nerves?"

"Well, a slight problem." I reply with a small smile. "All I really need is a prescription for something to make my stomach not become so nauseous. As I'm sure you know already, I have a very important Victory Tour coming up and I must be in the best condition for it."

"Ah yes the famous Victory Tour." He smiles, setting down my chart to the side. "Well, of course I can prescribe you something but first I'll need to run a few blood tests. You know, just to make sure nothing else is going on and to figure out how much exactly of a certain prescription I can give you." He pauses, "Are you alright with needles?"

I give a firm nod. "Of course, they don't bother me at all. Go right on ahead with a blood test."

He nods his head and smiles, lifting my chart up. "I'll have a nurse here within the next few minutes to take your blood. The results shouldn't take but ten minutes to get after that." His hand rests on the door knob. "Please, feel free to look through the magazines." He nods towards a small table beside my bed and I look to see a neat stack of about ten magazines. "Shouldn't be long." He smiles before exiting.

Eyeing the magazines, I pick one up that has a young woman with long curly magenta hair holding a tiny newborn in her arms. A maternity magazine. I flip through the rest only to find that this mix contains only maternity and elderly care magazine, of which neither subject interests me since I'm neither old nor pregnant. Luckily, I don't have time to become bored because a nurse soon enters my room.

"Arm please." I hold out my arm as she dabs it delicately with a thin alcohol wipe. "Now, this'll only take a minute. Please do you best not to tense up or move, it'll make getting the blood easier.'' Her words almost remind me of what they say to the tributes when the trackers are injected into their arms-of course, with the exception of blood drawing.

There's a light pinch and in a matter of a minute, a small vile no bigger than my thumb is filled with a deep crimson liquid. The nurse undoes the band around my arm and quickly bandages the spot where she stuck me with a needle. "Dr. Pritchitt will be here in a few minutes with the results." Before I can reply, she has gathered all of her things and quickly exits from the room.

My eyes fall onto the maternity magazine with the purple haired woman. A mixture of boredom and curiosity overtake me as I pick it up and begin to flip through. I never truly understood the beauty behind pregnancy. Women's bodies swell into unnatural bulges and undesirable stretchmarks and unseen veins seem to pop out every which way. Not to mention of course, the horrors of actually delivering a child and then having to adjust and readjust your schedule around it. I myself had never seen myself as a mothering type. No, I preferred to have my own self to take care of and a schedule that didn't need to be changed every other minute. But I didn't need to worry about such a dramatic change like a baby. I, of course, was not mother nor was I expecting any time soon, or even ever planned to be.

There's a knock at the door once more and I straighten up, tossing the magazine neatly back into place just as Dr. Pritchitt enters. I note the strange expression on his face as if he's concerned about something. My heart rate increases a little as he steps towards me, his eyes focusing on my chart as if trying to make out some unknown code.

"Is everything alright?" My voice is unnaturally cheerful as I try not to think badly of what might my blood tests say.

"Ms. Trinket..." he pauses as if at a loss for words. "I don't mean to pry but...by any chance, are you sexually active?"

I gasp very taken aback by his question. Sexually active? Why on earth would he need to know that?

"Of course not!" I snap accidently. "Why would you ask such a thing?" I didn't feel inclined to mention what happened between Haymitch and I.

"Well, maybe there's a mistake then." He looks a little relieved. "The results must've been false because," He laughs, "By the level of your hormones, it suggests you're pregnant."

Pregnant. My heart stops for a second as I try to count back how many weeks ago I had had sex with Haymitch. Was it possible? I didn't remember much from that night nor did I ever really try to. Pregnant... Me, Effie Trinket...pregnant?

"Ms. Trinket? Is everything alright?" Dr. Pritchitt's voice sounds so distant now and I'm too far gone to even attempt to collect myself. "Ms. Trinket?"

"It...it was just one night. It was nothing!" The words escape shrilly from my throat. "An accident! I-I never should have accepted that liquor. I never should have gone in the first place! This wasn't supposed to happen!"

"Ms. Trinket?"

I try to focus on the doctor of which there are now two of as my heart races even faster. The room begins to become blurry as I feel myself slipping beyond the grasps of reality and into the blackness of unconsciousness. The last thing my eyes catch is the outline of the purple haired woman on the magazine, baby in her arms, looking sickeningly happy as if mocking me and my misfortune.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four: What is Hidden Must be Revealed

"You know, Ms. Trinket, there are several options you can choose from."

A warm hand rests on my shoulder but I do not look up, instead, I twiddle my thumbs not wishing to discuss this subject any further. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to really be in my power at the moment to decide what was said and what wasn't. So, I try to block out Dr. Pritchitt's words. As rude as it was, for the first time in my entire life, I didn't feel like being polite or carrying up a conversation. I didn't even have the strength to force a smile.

The pressure of his hand leaves my shoulder and curiosity over takes me as I look up to see what he's doing. My eyes follow him as he walks over to a cabinet and begins to pull out packets and pamphlets of various shapes and forms before walking back over to me and holding them out. I hesitate for a moment before taking them. There had to be at least a good dozen and as I begin to flip through my eyes fall across titles such as 'From One Citizen to Another-A Capitolian's Guide to Adoption' or 'What is Termination of Pregnancy?'.

"Just take a peek through these when you get the chance. You don't have to decide anything right away but it's comforting to some people to know that there are different approaches to situations such as these." I say nothing, only keep my eyes glued to the stack of documents on my lap. "I assume you know the baby's father?"

Assume I know who know impregnated me? What kind of question is that? Of course I know who the father of my child is! It's appalling and offensive that he would ask such a thing as if I just went about sleeping with random men. The nerve of some people!

"Of course I know!" I unintentionally snap. "Do I seem like the type of woman who would go about having relations with strangers, Dr. Pritchitt?" I'll have you know, sir, that I placed second out of two hundred young women for having the highest class standards and impeccable manners at Madame Vilbia's Academy of Civility! And I'm sure you know that her school is quite hard to get into in the first place!"

"Well, yes, yes, of course you know who it is." He seems to be a little flustered now. "I apologize, forgive me. I only meant it as an innocent question. I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything." I watch as he absentmindedly adjusts his stethoscope.

"I apologize for my outburst." I say glancing at the clock on the back wall. It's almost six meaning that I have spent far much more time here than I thought I would. Thankfully, this was only cutting into my scheduled suppertime and nothing of too much importance. "I've known the...the father of my child for quite awhile now. Our relationship is..." I try to think of a good word to use. "Complicated." There was no other way I could describe our relationship if that's really what you want to refer to it as nor did I really want to go into detail about it with this man I just met.

"I see..." He pulls a small notepad from his pocket and scribes something down. "Now, I this may not help your nausea but I highly recommend you start taking these." He rips off the piece of paper he wrote on and hands it to me. I examine it and see it's a name for some sort of pill, something that I haven't ever heard of. "They're prenatal vitamins." He says as if reading my mind. "They're over-the-counter so you don't need a prescription note for me to purchase them."

I give a nod and push it deep down, along with the other papers, inside my purse without a second glance. "Thank you." My voice is surprisingly quiet. "Well, it seems I have over stayed my visit..." I glance at the clock once more before looking at Dr. Pritchitt. It takes everything I have to force a smile on my face as I extend my hand. "I appreciate this visit, Dr. Pritchitt, but I must be off. I have a strict schedule to stay on as you know."

"Take it easy, Ms. Trinket." He shakes my hand. "If there's anything you need, do not hesitate to give me a call. We're usually open longer than most offices in this sector of the Capitol."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." I say reaching for the neatly folded pile of my everyday clothes. "Have a fine evening, Dr. Pritchitt."

He's at the door now, his hand resting on the knob. "You do the same, Ms. Trinket. I do hope the Victory Tour goes well. Congratulate those victors for me." And he leaves without a second word.

I feel the corners of my mouth relax as I slump forward, my head cradled in my hands. My life. My job. My reputation. They slip from my grasp and into the unknown. Everything was going to change and no plan, no schedule, could stop it. It's all out of my power now. And I blame him. Haymitch Abernathy. If he had never given me that horrid drink, I would not be in this situation. This was all his fault and I plan to make sure he knew that too.

xXx

Four in the morning. That's what time I find myself waking up the day of the Victory Tour. And even though most are still fast asleep, tucked underneath their cozy comforters-or most likely in Haymitch's case, a mountain of empty liquor bottles, I have to be up and prepping for what events will be occurring today. So, to keep on a strict schedule, I have allowed myself only thirty minutes to get ready.

"Yes, yes, be at the station in exactly one hour." I scoop up my makeup bag from it's spot on the counter while pressing the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I go over the meeting time with one of the several camera crews once more. "And I expect you will not be late? We cannot afford to waste anytime. Today, after all, is a big, big, day!"

I catch my reflection in a mirror as I place the phone back into it's holster. I stop for just a moment and examine myself, my hands falling on the spot they always seem to be when I'm alone. My stomach, once perfectly flat, now curves forward just the slightest to form the unmistakable bulge that all expecting women get. It's not too big, at least, I tell myself that. Nothing that a good outfit of mine can't hide. So, I do my best to conceal it underneath the puffs and waves of my dress, throwing a jacket over myself for good measure.

"There." I breath, looking at myself in the mirror once more. "Perfect."

I adjust my brightly colored orange wig I purchased just for this occasion before gathering up my bags and purse. My car would be waiting for me outside the door and in a matter of minutes, I'd be at the station ready to head of to District Twelve. Although I had been anticipating this tour, I can't say that my excitement to see a certain someone was through the roof. "Just grin and bare it." My mother used to say to me. And I would, I'd pull off my usual self like I normally did and no one would suspect a thing. Though, the cold morning air that hit me when I opened the front door made my high hopes slink away quickly.

"To the station!" I tell the driver, my voice thick with a false alertness and confidence as I place my bags onto the floor beside me. "Lovely morning for the Victory Tour isn't it?"

He yawns in response before starting off down the dark road. I, of course, do not have time to be tired, but instead go over my schedule once more.

"Do you mind if I turn on a light? I'd like to spend this time going over my plans once more." Through the glow of the car light's I can see him shake his head. I smile thankfully and flip on the overhead and rummage through my purse in search of my clipboard. "Oh now where is it." I mumble quietly, pulling things out an placing them on the seat beside me. I didn't remember having all of this stuff in my bag. Perhaps I would have time on the train to do some organization. Finally, I find something that feels schedule-like and I immediately pull it out.

"So You're Going to be a Mother", the bold writing across the cover almost makes me yelp in surprise. I thought I had taken all of these silly pamphlets out awhile ago. Suddenly losing the will to go over my schedule, I shove everything back into my bag and flip of the light. The recent few weeks after I discovered my pregnancy, I had become, as one might put it, a tad paranoid. I always fretted over if someone would discover that I had conceived out of wedlock-with none other than Haymitch Abernathy, and start the spread of many horrible, most likely career-ruining rumors about me. I hadn't even told dear Portia and Cinna that I was expecting. No, only me, myself, and I-and Dr. Pritchitt, knew about this baby. But of course, that was all going to change on this trip.

"Here we are, the station." The driver pulls up to the curb and through the fog that is beginning to form, I can see the train lights glowing faintly. "Need help with your bags?"

I merely shake my head and get out of the car. "I think I can manage, thank you." I take a wad of cash from my wallet and hand it to him. "For your troubles." He mumbles some sort of thanks but I'm already off towards the train.

xXx

_I'm on the television, or rather, I'm being filmed. The stage is lit up with various lights and in the middle sit two large chairs, one occupying me and the other the famous Caesar Flickerman, interviewer of the tributes of each Hunger Games. I barely have time to figure out how I got here when Caesar's laugh fills my ears._

_"So, Ms. Trinket," Caesar grins over at me, his hair shimmering an odd silvery blue in the stage light. "Tell us, are the rumors true? Are you and Haymitch Abernathy, the District Twelve mentor who won the Second Quarter Quell having a child?"_

_"Well, I...How did you?" My face is growing red with heat as thousands of pairs of eyes watch me expectantly._

_He laughs and the audience with him. "Why, everyone knows. It's quite hard to miss the unmistakable belly you have." And for the first time, my eyes land on my stomach. To my horror, it has tripled in size and there is no puffy dress nor jacket around to conceal it._

_"I did not agree to this interview!" My voice is now so shrill it could probably break glass if I try to go any higher. "I would like off this stage now please."_

_"Unfortunately, that decision isn't your's to make." His shakes his head, an odd almost sinister grin on his face. "Isn't that right audience?"_

_The crowd erupts into a sort of satanic chant of which I cannot make out words from. My hands tremble as I try to cower back into the chair but whenever I do, I just seem to be pushed closer to the audience._

_"No, please, I beg you to let me go!" I cling to the back of the chair, trying to pull my feet up as people reach towards them, fingers smacking palms as they make grabs for them._

_"Effie! Effie! Effie!'' The chants grow clearer and louder. "Effie! Effie! Effie!"_

_I'm being pulled now into a dark pit, hands groping me, tearing at me, while Caesar laughs on encouragingly._

_"Stop!" I shriek, "I'm begging you to stop! Stop!"_

"Effie!" Someone's shaking me and I try to push them back. "Effie! Wake up! It's alright! You're just having a nightmare! You're safe!"

I recognized the voice at once. "Cinna?" I open my eyes slowly to see Cinna and Portia looming over me, their expressions suggest they are worried. "What are you both..." And then I remember where I am. "I fell asleep?" I look out the window frantically and see not the outline of the Capitol but rather the small homes of those in District Twelve.

"When the train arrived and you didn't get off, we grew worried and came searching for you." Portia says gently.

"I cannot believe I feel asleep." I shake my head in disbelief. "I was planning to bit of last minute prepping but instead my body decided to take a nap. How off schedule did I put us? Where are the victors? Are they ready? Is-" Cinna's hand rests on my shoulder.

"Everything's alright, Effie." He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "And we're right on schedule. The train arrived ten minutes earlier than expected. Your nap merely made it so that everything is back on track."

I still can't believe that I managed to fall asleep. I guess I hadn't realized how tired I was until I sat down on the train. Inhaling, I grab my purse and stand up, Cinna's hand sliding off of my shoulder.

"Well then," I say, my voice returning to it's usual octave. "We have a schedule to maintain. I suggest we go and retrieve Katniss and Peeta from their homes and get them ready to board the train."

"And Haymitch." The mention of his name from Cinna's mouth causes me to stiffen slightly.

"Oh yes," I mutter as I walk towards the entrance of the train. "Can't forget about Haymitch can we?" I force a smile on my face as I begin to step off when Portia's hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Effie?" I turn my head slightly to see her eyeing me curiously. "Is everything alright?"

I readily nod, "Of course," I make my smile even bigger, "After all, today is the beginning of the Victory Tour, District Twelve's first in years. Why wouldn't everything be alright?"

I could easily make a list of reasons why it wasn't alright but instead, I step off the train and, inhaling deeply, trudge through the snow towards the Victor's Village.

xXx

The next few hours pass in a sort of blur with several pictures and videos taken of Katniss and Peeta from their departure from the Victor's Village and to the train with me in their footsteps answering several questions asked by the reporters. And, even though this is a huge moment in my career, I cannot help but focus on the man standing off to the side slouching against the train as the faint odor of liquor fills my nose.

"Alright now, up you both go." I say ushering Peeta and Katniss onto the train. "We have a tight schedule, no room for breaking." Haymitch lags behind and it takes everything I have not to go behind him and beat him with my purse. I had so much pent up anger towards him at the moment. But, do to the current audience and circumstances, I merely smile and add politely, "Oh do hurry, Haymitch, we haven't the time for slowness today."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Princess. I'll get there when I get there." The corners of my mouth twitch threatening to turn into a frown but I just suck in a breath and wait patiently for him to get onto the train.

Thankfully, Haymitch's sluggishness didn't cause us to go off schedule and by four in the evening, we're on our way towards District Eleven with a lovely dinner sitting before us.

"Well," I smile at everyone as they gather around the table. "I'd like to say that everyone did an excellent job with getting onto the train." No one smiles back at my statement. "So thank you, everyone. I do believe this will be the best Victory Tour District Twelve has ever seen."

Haymitch lets out a sarcastic laugh making my blood boil with rage. "Probably will be the last tour District Twelve sees." He slams down his bottle causing alcohol to slosh about.

"Thinking pessimistically will get us nowhere." I say trying to keep a cheerful attitude. "I'm sure after a win like this one," I look from Peeta to Katniss with a smile, "Other tributes will find the inspiration to win. You two," I nod towards them, "Should be very proud.

"What's there to be proud of, Princess?" Haymitch picks up a leg of chicken and bites into it. "Killing innocent children is a good thing?"

"Ignore him." I tell them, "You two have far more important things to think about such as speeches."

"Speeches." Haymitch scoffs, "You think that people really give a damn about those, Princess? And-" He holds up his hand before I can interject, "Don't try to tell me that people in the Capitol do. Everything you tell them goes in one ear and out the other." He slams his now empty bottle down. "I'll be retiring to my room."

I watch furiously as he gets up without properly excusing himself and makes his way down the hallway. I turn to Katniss, Peeta, and the stylists trying to keep a calm face as I stand up.

"Excuse me," I say as I place my napkin on my plate. "I apologize about all of this."

And on that note, I quickly exit the dining car and hurry after Haymitch. Luckily for me, he hasn't gone but a car down from where he was previously. I'm beside him in a matter of seconds.

"How dare you!" I snap, "You think you can just go about pushing me down like that? Pushing them down? How dare you!"

Haymitch lifts a brow in surprise, "Since when do you get so uptight, Princess?" He laughs, the smell of liquor fuming off of him.

It takes everything I have not to slap him. "I'll have you know I worked extremely hard to make all of this possible! The least you could do was have the decency to give me some respect! I deserve that much after all I've been through!"

This makes him laugh even harder. "Been through? What the hell have you possibly been through, Princess? Your life has got to be probably the most god damn perfect thing one could think of! Spare me with your pity party."

"You have no idea what I've been dealing with, Haymitch!" I'm trembling now. "And you have no right, no right, to just stand there and mock me! You owe me an apology!"

"I don't owe you squat, Princess." His face is inches from mine. "Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd allow me to go to my room. Your voice is giving me a headache." He turns and begins to walk towards his room.

Before I can stop myself, I spat out, "You should know that this is no way to treat a lady whose expecting!"

He turns in surprise and takes one look at me before bursting into a fit of laughs. "You? Expecting? God help us all..." He shakes his head still chuckling, "When the time comes, I'll make sure to buy the father cigars or whatever you Capitolians give eachother when babies are born." His voice is thick with sarcasm making me want to scream. But instead, something else escapes from my lips. Two simple words that make him stop in his tracks.

"It's your's."


	5. At the Bottom of a Bottle

Chapter five: At the Bottom of a Bottle

Every second ticks away so slowly I'm convinced time itself has stopped. I feel his eyes searching me over, taking in every inch as if he's trying to make sense of things. Perhaps I shouldn't have done this when he was already so intoxicated. But then again, there was never really a moment when he wasn't and if I hadn't had done it when I did, maybe I never would have later. So here we now both stand in the hallway of a train car no less where I find myself starting to grow impatient with his lack of a response.

"Well? Say something!"

"What's there to say, Princess?" He sounds tired but the moment he lifts the bottle of wine towards his lips any concern I had towards him dies.

"Oh for god sakes, can you put that bottle down for one minute?" My practically yelling now and the fact that no one has come to see what the commotion is about surprises me. "Normal, civilized men usually have the decency to..." He has drained the bottle dry and now tips it upside down looking for any missed droplets. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Loud and clear, Princess. And there's not enough liquor in all of Panem that'll get me drunk enough not to. But..." I watch as he turns his head and glances behind his shoulder, "I'm sure the bar car has more than enough for me to try to."

"Oh you horrible, despicable, rude, poor excuse of a man!" Now I'm slipping to his level but I really don't care. How dare he just stand there and insult me right after I tell him I'm expecting his child? No way to treat the mother of your child. No way to treat a woman. No way to treat anyone for that matter.

"That's right, Princess, let the whole world know what they already did." The threat of tears seems close now as I stride forward and slap him, the sound cutting through whatever still air was left. He doesn't even flinch. "Are you done?"

I shake my head in disbelief. "I hope you drown in your own vomit."

"I'll do my best, Princess."

I push past him and hurry down the hallway, the warm tears spilling out from my eyes. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of anything. My hands find the doorknob belonging to my room and hoping no one has seen me in my current state, I forcefully turn it and hurry inside, shutting myself away from the world.

xXx

A knock on the door causes my eyes to flutter open. I sit up slowly, my body feeling exhausted from everything that has happened today. Whoever was out there, I really wish they would just go away. My makeup is smeared horribly from what I could see from the sliver of the mirror in the bathroom and my eyes, bloodshot and puffy from the countless tears I had shed. It's a shame these prenatal vitamins I'm taking don't help with my emotions.

"Effie?"

Portia. Oh the last thing I need is for her to see me like this; disgusting, ragged, not at all suitable for a public appearance. I glance over at the small clock that sits on the nightstand beside my bed. Midnight. If she's at my door at this hour, there most be an important reason why. Adjusting my wig which I find is lopsided on my head, I stand up and head for the door.

"Good evening, Effie, I..." She stops in mid-sentence, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh my, Effie, you look..." I swallow hard and she stops herself at once. "Might I come in?"

"Yes, yes, of course." I say stepping aside so that she can enter. "I was about to call the from room services. I do believe the air freshener they are using in here is causing my eyes great irritation." Portia doesn't look convinced but I'm thankful she doesn't admit so. "Is everything going alright outfit-making wise?" I ask, motioning for her to follow me over to a small couch in the corner of my room.

"Yes, very well. That's why I've come to talk to you." She says taking a seat. "We're just about done adding the finishing touches to Peeta's and Cinna's hard at work with Katniss's. They'll most definitely be done by tomorrow."

"That's wonderful news." And for the first time, I give a genuine smile. Knowing that there was one less thing for me to worry about lifted several pounds of weight from my shoulders. "You and Cinna are amazing. I knew I could count on you both to keep up with the schedule. I really do wish I could say the same about the others." I exhale and give my head a quick shake. "But, we'll have everything straight before tomorrow's events."

"Effie..." There's hesitation in Portia's voice. "Can I ask you about something?"

I look at her oddly. "Of course, Portia, anything."

"Well, Cinna and I have been talking and we're concerned about you." Her hand rests on mine and I suddenly find myself feeling very claustrophobic sitting here between Portia and the arm of the couch. "You're a good friend of our's and we care greatly about you. We just want to make sure everything is going alright."

"Everything is going just smoothly with me." I turn my attention to the sleeve of my dress and begin to adjust it. It was the only excuse I could think of that would keep me from looking directly at Portia. "It's flattering to know you and Cinna care but really, there is no reason for you two to worry. I'm-" I stop suddenly when I see an object in Portia's hand. My prenatal vitamins.

"I found these by my foot at the dinner table." My heart is pounding with the temptation to snatch the bottle. How could I have been so stupid as to let it fall out of my purse? "They're not mine and I know they aren't Katniss's. Effie, you know you can tell me anything right? I would never judge you. You know that." There was no hiding it now.

"Haymitch." I say quietly avoiding a look of confusion I know Portia's giving me. "It never was supposed to happen. I only went to District Twelve to go over the Victory Tour schedule and one thing led to another..." I feel the hand she has on mine give me a gentle squeeze as if telling me to go on. "I don't remember much of what happened that night and to be honest, I'm glad. But, when I went to the appointment you set up for me with Dr. Pritchitt, I learned that it was more than just stress causing my nausea." And without a reason to, I begin to laugh. "And tonight after dinner, I went to confront Haymitch about his table manners-because of course, what with all the parties coming up, I can't have him going about being all uncivilized and it just slipped out. Just slipped out..." I turn to look at her, my blood boiling with anger. "And I should have known he'd act the way he did when I told him. Of course he'd just stand there with one of the stupid bottles of wine and just..." I close my eyes and inhale. I really didn't feel the need to go on with my story so I instead wait to hear what Portia's has to say about all of this.

"Why don't we go get some tea?"

I hadn't expected that statement. Slightly confused, I open my eyes to see her expression calm, a soft smile curving on her lips.

"Tea?" I ask as if I hadn't had heard her right. "When I look like this?"

This makes her chuckle softly. "Not to worry, at this hour, anyone who is up is not out of their rooms. Besides, you look quite alright anyway."

Tea. Maybe that would do me some good. My mother used to say that the real cure for any illness, whether it be physical or emotional, was a steaming cup of blackberry tea. Oh how I miss my mother; even more so now with everything that's going on. If anyone would know what to do, it would be her. Unfortunately I have no means of reaching her. District Three has yet to create a telephone that has the abilities to allow contact with the deceased.

I give Portia a small smile, "Tea would be lovely."

xXx

The lights have been dimmed in the dining car as Portia and I sit at the table, two steaming cups of blackberry tea sitting before us. Inhaling, I carefully lift my cup to my lips and take a sip. It was a wonderful feeling, the warm liquid sliding down my throat, sending the much needed heat throughout my body. The sweet taste of blackberries encases my tongue and I find myself craving the flavor more than just in tea.

"Are you keeping it?"

I blink in surprise and set my tea cup down. Portia's eyes are fixed on me and a wave of uneasiness washes over me. Perhaps going to tea wasn't just her way of trying to relax me from tonight's events, rather her attempt of making me comfortable for a long discussion she had planned.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forgive me for my bluntness, I only meant have you considered keeping it," I must look rather confused because she quickly adds in a whisper, "The baby."

I find myself unnecessarily stirring my tea, my eyes fixed on the swirls it makes when the spoon does a complete circle. "Well if you mean carrying the..." The word feels like sand paper on my tongue, "...baby...to full term then yes." I tap the spoon on the rim before setting it down on a nearby napkin. "As for raising it, I'm not too sure. I never had planned to have a child and definitely not one that has been fathered by..." I take a small sip of my tea.

"I see," Portia's quiet for a minute but I know it's not going to last for long. And I'm right. "I know after what happened tonight you're really not going to want to hear this, but maybe it would make things easier...coop with."

"What are you talking about, Portia?" I ask curiously, my full attention now focused on her.

"I mean you shouldn't blame Haymitch for his actions." Before I can interject she continues. "He's never been one who has the greatest ability when dealing with things. After all, you've seen him turn to the bottle whenever the Hunger Games start. It's difficult for him. Now, I know that's no excuse for how you described he treated you when you told him about the," She nods towards my stomach and I shift uncomfortably at the thought. "-but you have to realize that news like this wasn't something he expected."

"Well I wasn't expecting it either but it happened." I feel the corners of my mouth twitch downward in a frown. "The least he could have done was be kinder towards me when I told him. I try my best to be polite towards him and he makes it difficult, very difficult."

"He lost all of his family, Effie. In a way, maybe he's a little scared about losing this one."

Her words were becoming more confusing. Losing this one? The baby? Why on earth would he be scared about that? It made no sense.

"Scared?" I say, "Why would he be scared about something like that? I doubt he considers it family in the first place."

"Oh, I'm sure he considers it something." She replies quietly before taking a sip of her tea. "A lot of things happen that I'm not sure you and I are fully aware of. " Strangely, Portia eyes seem to dart from one corner of the room to another as if expecting someone to emerge. "I just think that maybe you should cut him a bit of slack, that's all."

Feeling a little betrayed as if she's taking his side over mine, I finish my tea. "Well, I'll be civil towards him if he is to me. I greatly dislike his attitude and quite frankly, with what I'm going through at the moment, I can't really handle it." It was a waste of breath on my part. Both of us realize that the likelihood of Haymitch acting in such a polite way at all was one out of a billion.

"I'm sure in his own way, he'll try." She finishes her tea and sets the empty cup down. "It's getting late." I watch as she glances towards the small rectangular clock above the doorway. "We best be getting to bed. You have to get Katniss up at six if I remember correctly."

I give a nod, "Yes, her prep team needs to get have her ready before eight in the morning. We have a big day a head of us."

"You need your rest too in that case." There's a soft rattle and the prenatal vitamin bottle is now in front of me. I had completely forgotten Portia was holding onto it. "I meant to give those back to you when we were in your room."

"Thank you." I manage to say as I slip them into my purse. "I would have worried as to where they had gone off to when I looked for them in the morning."

"Well there's another thing you no longer have to worry about." That makes me laugh softly.

"Yes, well I suppose you're right about that." She nods in agreement. "I'm right about a lot of things." And I find myself wondering what she means by that.

"Anyway, Effie, if there's anything you need, you know where my room is." We're both standing now as an attendant comes and takes the empty cups away.

"Thank you, Portia, I'll keep that in mind." To my surprise, her arms wrap around me and pull me close into a hug.

"It'll be alright, Effie." She whispers, "You're one of the toughest people I know. If you can shape the manners of two children from District Twelve into those that could easily be mistaken as those of the Capitol, you can do anything."

"I know." The words escape in a feeble tone and for the first time, I realize how truly terrified I am.


	6. On Terms of Endearment

Chapter six: On the Terms of Endearment

I blink for one second and the sun is already peeking over the horizon and so badly-even though I'd never admit to it, I wish I could just ignore everything and fall back asleep. But I can't. I have a job to attend to. Katniss had to be woken up and readied for the first stop in the tour, District Eleven. And even though I feel far more fatigued than usual, it's up to me to make sure everyone's spirits are kept up and their energy soaring. I signed on to be an escort for moments such as this and I'm not about to let a little bit of exhaustion put me down.

"Katniss," I give Katniss's door three quick raps. "Up and at 'em! Today's a big, big, day and we haven't the time for slacking. District Eleven awaits the bright faces of this year's victors!"

A soft noise comes from behind the door that resembles a groan but I ignore it. She'd thank me later for rousing her early, I'm sure of it. After all, beauty does take time to make happen. She'll learn the concept of that one day and she'd appreciate me because of it.

"When your dressed, please meet me in the dining car for breakfast. I have a few things I'd like to go over with you." I try to mask the weariness in my voice by sounding overly happy. Thankfully, I'm quite talented at that sort of thing.

From what I can hear, she's up and about pulling on something that probably wouldn't meet to my standards of fashion. Fortunately, her wearing whatever it was wouldn't be for long and I repeatedly assure myself that as I make my way down the train towards breakfast.

The hallway that leads to the dining car is still dark, the windows covered by the velvety red curtains that block out the sunlight. I pass by Peeta's room and from the stillness I assume he's still fast asleep. In some ways I envy that it takes far less time for him to get ready than it does for any woman on this train. After all, he gets a little bit more sleep than the rest of us. Something that I could use far more than he.

Upon passing the rooms that house the prep teams, I'm met by the unmistakable stench of alcohol. Haymitch's room. My hand quickly clamps over my nose and mouth as I hurry along trying to get past it. For some reason, the smell has grown even stronger and more unbearable than I remember. Could it possibly be because I am pregnant? Whatever the reason was, I didn't really feel the need to stand there and ponder it further. The smell was causing my stomach to twist and the threat of becoming sick was growing.

Finally, after several attempts on my stomach's part to make vomit, I successfully make it to the dining car clean as a whistle. New smells fill my nose masking the horrid odor that I experienced while passing Haymitch's room. Eggs. Bacon. Fresh blueberry muffins. My stomach growls with hunger and I quickly take one of the porcelain plates from the rack and fill my plate up. Katniss wasn't one who was strict when it came with manners so I knew she wouldn't mind if I started without her. After all, for all I knew she was going to be late-to my dismay of course, and I couldn't allow all of this wonderful food to grow cold.

I'm halfway through my muffin when Katniss looking rather exhausted takes a seat across from me. She looks like she's had a rough night but I decide not to press it further. We all have our troubles that we'd rather not share-mine of course, probably being much larger than anything she was going through. I merely give her a smile and turn my attention back to my muffin.

"Where's everybody else?"

It takes me a moment to realize that she's taking to me. Neatly folding the paper lining that covered my muffin in half, I blot at the corners of my mouth before straightening up in my seat.

"Oh, who knows where Haymitch is," I try not to sound cold when I say his name but it's nearly impossible not too. "Cinna was up late organizing your garment car. He must have over a hundred outfits for you. Your evening clothes are exquisite-or from what Portia has told me they are. And Peeta's team is still probably asleep."

"Doesn't he need prepping?" I nearly chuckle at her question. Even she should realize that a male does not require as much prepping as a female.

"Not the way you do." I say rather cheerfully. "Now why don't you have some breakfast? Your prep team should be arriving soon to get you ready."

She gives me an odd look before reaching over to take a muffin. I feel as if this breakfast was going to be one of awkward silences so I try to start up a conversation.

"So, I'm sure you've heard that lovely mockingjay pin of your's has become all the rage in the Capitol." I lift my tea up and take a sip. Blackberry. Oh how I've developed such a craving for the taste.

"No, can't say I have."

The corners of my mouth almost twitch into a frown by the lack of a lengthy answer on her part. But, as any well mannered one would, I try to keep up with the talk.

"Oh, well, it very much is. Many of my friends have gotten it made into various jewelry pieces and," I let out a light laugh, "My friend, Desmonda-she's the escort for District Eleven as you know-'' I could've sworn there's a flicker of pain in Katniss's eyes when I mention District Eleven. I'm not too sure why but maybe I'm mistaken and it was just the way the light shone in from the window; the brightness causing temporary pain for just a split second. After all, what could District Eleven hold so dear to her? "Anyway, she has the design tattooed in gold on the inner part of her wrist. Very beautiful craftsmanship I must say. Des always did have an eye for the exquisite."

Before Katniss even has time to reply, her prep team enters the room looking almost in the same shape Katniss is in. Is everyone this exhausted this morning? Perhaps I'll make an effort to discuss earlier bedtimes later on with them. After all, they cannot be looking in this poor of shape for the entire tour.

"Well Katniss, off you go now. Your prep team has come to make you look glamorous. I do believe the next time we'll see each other is..." I think back to my schedule of which I have gone over with myself so many times that I could probably locate every dot on an 'i' or cross on a 't' with a blindfold on. "Lunch if I'm correct."

She mumbles something that's hard to make out before placing her napkin on her plate and going off with her prep team. I watch as the four figures disappear down the hall leaving me alone at the table. Alone, at last. Quickly, I pull from my purse the small white bottle that Portia returned to me last night. Undoing the top, I dump out two dime-sized tablets and quickly wash them down with the last of my tea before shoving the bottle back into the dark depths of my purse. So far only Haymitch and Portia knew about my current predicament and I wasn't about to let anyone else know...for the time being at least.

xXx

I go back to my room after breakfast and go over today's plans until the hour of lunch is upon me. I push back the dread of seeing a certain someone at the table as I gather my clipboard and purse and make my way down the familiar hallway once more. To my surprise I'm not the first to be seated at the table. There's Portia and Cinna seeming to be caught up in what looks like a very interesting conversation. Peeta who appears to be listening intently. And the slouching figure sitting further than everyone else with a mangled looking muffin on his plate. Haymitch. All eyes except those belonging to Haymitch look up at me as I walk into the room.

"Well then, it's good to see everyone up and about." I don't look at Haymitch as I take in front of Portia who gives me a welcoming smile. "Did everyone sleep well?"

"Very much so." Cinna smiles as he lifts up the teapot. "Can I interest you in some tea?"

"That would be lovely, thank you, Cinna." I hold out my cup and he fills it to the brim. "So Peeta," I smile over at him before taking a sip. "Are you excited about today's stop? District Eleven is quite different than Twelve. Much warmer I might add too. I think you'll enjoy it there and I bet there will be some very talented bakers for you to converse with. I know how much you enjoy your baking. I hear you have quite the knack for it."

"Well, I don't like to brag," He smiles, "But it'll be nice getting to see other's cake work. Who knows, maybe I'll even pick up a few tips."

"That's the spirit!" Katniss enters the room just as I say those words. "Ah, Katniss, I was hoping you'd join us soon."

Her eyes scan the table for a moment before she takes a seat across from me. She looks as if there was something on her mind but I dare not question, no one else was anyway. I watch as she ladles broth into her bowl and, very distractedly begins to spoon a few mouthfuls past her lips. With Haymitch nursing his hangover in the corner and Katniss seeming rather preoccupied with her thoughts, it seems as it's up to me to keep the cheerfulness in the air.

"Well, I don't know about you all, but I cannot wait to see what architecture District Eleven holds. I've always been fascinated in that sort of thing." One of the servers brings out a bowl of fresh fruits and to my delight there are plump blackberries among the slices of strawberries and bananas. Doing my best not to seem greedy, I make a grab for the spoon and dish out two heaping spoonfuls onto my plate.

"Aren't ruins all the rage in the Capitol at the moment?" Portia asks with a smile. At least someone other than me watched for the latest trends.

"Why yes it is actually." I turn to Peeta and Katniss, "You two are so lucky. You have the real thing at home while we in the Capitol only can replicate it." It was a harmless statement but Katniss seems to frown a little at it.

Suddenly, I feel the train beginning to slow down. We couldn't possible be in Eleven yet could we? Then a thought hits me that causes my heart to stop. Sure enough, the server enters the dining car to prove my theory correct.

"There's a part of the train that seems to be malfunctioning. Not to worry though, it's nothing serious. We should be back up and running within an hour."

"An hour?" I squeak. "Oh no, no, no, no! That will not do at all!"

"We don't really have a choice, ma'am." He mumbles, scratching his head slowly. "We can't move if the train isn't functioning properly."

"But we are on a strict schedule!" I exclaim, my fingers tapping the clipboard frantically. "You don't understand how taking an hour out will affect everything! Why-" My mind races as I begin to flip through, "This could push us back drastically! I have had everything perfectly scheduled for months now! I'll have to make calls! Postpone dinner! Move the speeches back-not to mention how this will affect the rest of the trip! I-" There's a loud slam of a fist against the table and I turn to see Katniss glaring at me.

"No one cares, Effie!" She snaps.

I bit my lower lip as it begins to quiver. The stress of the hour pushing us back, being snapped at by Katniss, not to mention my uncontrollable hormones become too much. All eyes-including Haymitch's surprisingly, are fixed on Katniss who by now is halfway towards the door.

"Well no one does!" And on that note, she exits the train.

The room is quiet for a moment until Peeta breaks the silence.

"I'll go after her." He throws me a sympathetic look before hurrying out the same door Katniss left from.

"Well I..." I swallow hard, trying my best to hold back the tears which have started to form. "I better be off to my room. I need to...readjust the schedule. Excuse me." My voice breaks for the last two words as I quickly hurry out of the dining car and down the hallway.

I'm at my door in a matter of seconds. Swinging it open, I hurry inside and not even bothering to close it, I slump to the floor and burst into a fit of sobs. Oh if mother could see me now, how disappointed she would be. But I couldn't help. Nothing was going my way and this, what had just occurred had been the breaking point. I never should have taken this job, I'm failing so miserably at it.

"You left your purse.''

The gruff voice make me jump in surprise. Whipping around, I turn to see none other than Haymitch standing there looking rather awkward holding my large pink bag in his hand. Why was he here? Out of all the people on this train, the last person I had expected-or had wanted to see, was him.

"Oh, well, you can just go put it over on the bed." I quickly wipe at my eyes feeling rather embarrassed to be seen like this. Even though I really doubt Haymitch would care how I look. "Thank you."

He doesn't reply but goes to set my bag down on my bed. I expect him to leave but to my surprise he walks over to the wall nearest to me and leans against it. I look at him curiously wondering what on earth he was doing.

"She didn't mean to gear her anger towards you, you know." He's frowning softly, his arms folded casually over his chest. "She has a lot on her plate at the moment."

"I realize she's going through a lot. The Victory Tours can be quite stressful." I find myself adjusting the sleeves of my blouse. "I should know."

"Well, I'm sure she wouldn't want you to take it personally." And I begin to feel he's using Katniss's name when he really means himself. Was there a bigger reason for him coming here other than to just return my purse. Did Portia put him up to this? If I find out she did, I'd be confronting her later. "Just understand the kid doesn't blame you for any of this."

"I know she doesn't." I inhale deeply and a tissue Haymitch surprisingly holds out to me. "Thank you." I blow my nose before tossing the soiled tissue into the nearby trash can. "And I don't blame her for snapping at me in the first place. Though I found it very rude, I could see where she was coming from."

He merely nods and shifts uncomfortably where he stands. For the first time, I notice he doesn't have his usual bottle of liquor with him. Did he specifically not bring it when he came to talk to me? I'm not sure whether to be flattered by this or worry.

"I should be going." He mutters under his breath, "I have a few things to take care of." My heart sinks a little when I assume he means drinking.

"Well, thank you for bring back my bag. I really appreciate it." I tell him earnestly.

"You should...take it easy..." He sounds as if he's having trouble getting the words to come out. "It's not good to overwork yourself in your current condition... Or so I've heard." This makes me smile. Was it possible that he was trying to be-even very slightly, endearing towards me?

"I'll keep that in mind." He nods in response.

"Good," He walks over to the door. "Because there's a lot of paperwork that needs to be done when a person dies and I'd rather not be the one having to fill it out if you work yourself to death. Plus there's all of the interviews and camera crews and I have enough publicity as it is without having to deal with a famous escort's death on my shoulders." Leave it to Haymitch to ruin the mood.

"Well, I'll make sure it's not you whose put in charge if I die." I snap.

"I'll keep you to your word on that, Princess."

And for a split second I actually think he smiles. But in that same second it's gone and in another second, he too has disappeared leaving me alone to contemplate what exactly just happened. Haymitch was a very interesting character and I feel as if this isn't the last time I'm going to realize that.


	7. Unwelcome Invitees

Chapter seven: Unwelcome Invitees

I nervously pull at the cuff of my sleeve, eyes fixed on the large screen that sits a good few feet above me. Katniss and Peeta stand beside one another, each armed with a large bouquet of flowers as the speak to the citizens of District Eleven. I really wish I had been allowed to be on stage with them. My fears of them slipping up on their speeches or doing something that would reflect badly on me-and everyone else for that matter, swirl relentlessly in my mind.

A hand touches my arm and I turn to see Portia giving me a reassuring smile. She and Cinna seem quite at ease with all of this. Their faces clear of any concern or fear they might have. Haymitch on the other hand stands by my side, his lips pulled into a thin line as he focuses on every word that comes out of the victors' mouths. Did he worry like I did that they would embarrass us all?

"Well they haven't messed up yet." I say cheerfully looking from the stylists to Haymitch.

"Yet." Haymitch frowns deeply. "The boy might have pushed it too far with what he gave to the tributes' families."

Pushed it too far? Why I thought it was very sweet what Peeta did. And I'm almost positive those families were very grateful for those gifts. As I open my mouth to ask what he meant by those words, I'm immediately silenced by the sound of Katniss's voice.

"Wait!"

Haymitch lets out a groan but at the moment I'm far to occupied with Katniss hurrying across the stage to find out why. She reaches the podium, the large plaque that was given to her by Eleven's mayor pressed tightly to her chest. What on earth was she doing? I quickly glance at the others in hopes that maybe one of them would have the answer but they all seem just as clueless as I.

"I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District Eleven."

Her words catch me by surprise. Had she prepared another speech and not made me aware of it? It definitely wasn't scheduled but in a circumstance such as this, I decide to let it slide. After all, this was a very important moment for all of us and if worst came to worse, I could always pull off a few minutes from dinner to make up for lost time.

"Watch your words, girl..." Haymitch mutters as Katniss begins to discuss a tribute she calls Thresh. "The whole world's listening."

The corners of my lips twitch as I turn to look at him. Why was he being to pessimistic? Did he expect Peacekeepers to emerge from the cracks of the Justice Building and take Katniss into custody? She was doing just fine up there. Beautifully, I might add. But he was acting as if each word that slipped from her mouth had the capability of detonating a bomb.

"I think her speech is beautiful." I say with a smile as Katniss ends with a thanks to District Eleven's gift to her in the arena. "Very polite of her to-"

Without warning the image of Katniss on the stage disappears and is replaced by the annoying hum of static. You would think that District Eleven would at least have the decency to fix up their electronics for an event such as this. I shake my head, frowning as the bright flashes of millions of white and black pixels dance on the screen. As I turn to mention something about it, I stop immediately, my heart skipping a beat. Haymitch, whose face usually sports the gruff, no-nonsense expression now seems to almost look old, a little frightened even.

"Haymitch," I whisper, fear now bubbling in my chest. "Are you-"

Once again I am interrupted only this time by a loud popping noise that rings through the still air.

"Gun shot." Haymitch's words cause shivers to run up my spine.

"Don't be silly, Haymitch," I whisper, my arms tightening over my chest. "It couldn't possibly be that."

Could it? This district had already given off the impression of being rather pushy and cold. If that had been a gun shot then why had it been fired? My heart begins to pound as so many questions rush to my mind. What if they had fired at Katniss? Could there have possibly been a disgruntled citizen who attempted to do such a horrid act of violence? My eyes flash towards the door as it begins to creek open. Was the gunman coming after us now?

"We're going!" The voice is familiar. "We get it, alright? Come on, Katniss." Peeta.

A wave of relief rushes over me as the two victors emerge from behind the door. They look a little shaken, Peeta's arm tightly wound around Katniss, as they make their way towards us. My feet are moving before I realize what I'm doing.

"What happened?" I search both of their eyes for an answer. "We lost the feed just after Katniss's beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard a gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!" I'm beginning to hyperventilate but immediately try to regain myself when Haymitch's words from earlier today flash into my mind. It's not good to overwork yourself in your current condition.

"Nothing happened, Effie. An old truck backfired." Peeta's words are followed by two more loud pops. Definitely not a truck backfiring.

Haymitch steps forward. His face serious. He's eyes are fixed on Katniss and Peeta and the ominous feeling that there's something more going on that I haven't been made aware of washes over me.

"Both of you. With me."

Before I have time to interject, Haymitch, along with Peeta and Katniss disappear, leaving me alone with the stylists. There's a long moment of pause before Portia clears her throat, looking from me to Cinna.

"Well, I think I may go back and look over Peeta's outfit for this evening. I think the hem on his left pants' leg may be coming undone..." Cinna nods in agreement with her.

"That's not a bad idea. I may do the same. Minus the redoing a pants' leg hem of course." They both look to me. "Would you like to join us, Effie?"

The offer is kind but I had previous plans as to look about the Justice Building. Even though the fear of the gun shots still looms over me, I cannot help but be curious as to what interesting architect this district holds. I shake my head no and give them a warm smile.

"I think I'll take a look around. But thank you for the offer."

They look at each other slightly concerned.

"Are you sure, Effie?" Portia asks, "Really, we'd love the company."

"Yes, quite sure." I assure her, "And I think a walk before dinner would do me a great deal of good."

"Alright, just know the offer still stands if you change your mind." Cinna tells me with a smile.

I give them a nod. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

I watch as they walk away from me, disappearing out of the door opposite from where Haymitch took the Peeta and Katniss. I almost have the urge to follow them beside it best not to. Knowing Haymitch, he probably went somewhere where I couldn't follow and the thought of them having to send out a search party due to the fact that I got lost didn't seem at all worth the troubles. So, in my best interest, I keep with the plan of exploring.

xXx

When I step outside, I'm surprised to find that the previous crowd that was here for the speech has completely disappeared. The streets seem empty now except for the occasional person hurrying into their home. Even though this seems a little concerning, I shake off any troubling thoughts and begin to examine the cracking columns of the old Justice Building.

A few years back when I had just begun as the escort for Twelve, a rather large earthquake hit Eleven causing some unfortunate structural damage. My hand runs down the deep scars left in the wall as the question of why they never bothered to fix it up sits in my mind. Perhaps Eleven had been the inspiration of the district ruins theme back at the Capitol. I can still hardly believe that I have the luxury of getting to experience the real thing while my friends back at home only get to see the replications.

My foot steps down upon something soft. My heart stops when at first I think it could be a rat-I had heard horror stories about such creatures lurking around places such as this, but when I hear no squeak I look down. There, below my foot was what appeared to be a tattered doll. The eyes, black buttons, stare up at me with a smile made from a single strand of red thread. Now usually I don't pick up things off the ground but something about this doll intrigued me so, with surprising ease, I stoop down and scoop it up.

"Tulip!"

I glance up to see two children, one around the age of nine and the other around five watching me. The eldest's hands rest on her sister's shoulders, restraining her as she eyes me hesitantly. The littler one is staring at my hand that holds the doll, her chest rising up and down as she breaths hard. Was this her toy?

"Why, hello there." I call out to them. "Is this your doll?"

The littler one breaks away from her sister and runs over to me. Her hair messily puffs out from every which way as she pushes a hand through it, blinking up at me with large brown eyes. By the looks of her, I wonder when the last time she received a proper cleaning.

"You found her! You found Tulip!" She squeals pointing at my hand.

I smile softly and hand it back to her. She snatches it at once and holds it closer to her chest as if I'm going to try to take it away. Why did she care for a toy as old as this? Did her parents not take her to the store that often?

"Well, I'm glad she has a home." I tell her, my eyes wandering over to her sister who still stands at a distance from me. "What's your name, dear?"

"Daisy." She says shyly as she rocks back and forth on her heels. "And that's my sister Pansy over there." She points to the other girl who seems to shrink back when being shown to me. "She's afraid of you." She giggles, "She says you look weird with your funny hair."

My funny hair? I'm slightly offended by her comment but quickly recover. After all, she was but a child and not at all used to the Capitol's way of fashion.

"Well those are some nice names." I tell her with a smile. "I'm Effie. I'm sure you've seen me on the television before."

Daisy shakes her head. "We don't have a television. Well, we did but it broke. And I'm too little to see over all of the other people when were watching the big one." She points over to the large one that ever district has in their square. "You're not from around here are you?"

I laugh softly and shake my head. "No, I'm from the wonderful place called the Capitol. I'm sure you've at least heard of that."

To my relief, she nods. "I don't think my daddy likes the Capitol. He says they-"

"Daisy, that's enough!" I hadn't even noticed the older sister come up. She quickly grabs Daisy's arm and attempts to pull her away.

"Awe, I was just talking to the nice lady." Daisy whines as she struggles to break free of her sister. "Why do you have to go and ruin everything, Pansy?"

Pansy looks up at me with frightened eyes. "I'm really sorry about my sister." She whispers frantically. "She didn't mean a word she says. Please don't report us!"

Report them? Why would she think I'd do such a thing? Granted, I'm a tad surprised by her sister's words about their father's feelings towards the Capitol, but report them?

"Of course not." I assure her. "I'd never dream of such a thing. You have nothing to worry about."

Pansy relaxes her grip on her sister and gives me what I think is a smile. Daisy sticks out her tongue at her sister before looking up at me with a big grin.

"See, Pansy? I told you she's nice. She'd never report us." She holds out her doll towards me. "Tulip says thank you for finding her. She was scared when that loud noise happened. She got lost when everyone started running. But now she's safe and not scared anymore."

"Well, I'm very glad she's not scared anymore. That wouldn't be good now would it?" Daisy giggles and shakes her head no.

Suddenly Pansy lets out a little gasp. "Come on, Daisy. It's time to go home now." She whispers as she tugs at her sister again. "Mom and Dad will be looking for us."

"But I..." Daisy's eyes grow large as if she's been terrified by the same thing as her sister.

Before I can ask what has frightened them they take off. Their little shoes clapping against the concrete as the run. That's when I feel something nudging against my back. I turn around to see what it is only to come face to face with a Peacekeeper and his gun. Was he the reason the children ran?

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave ma'am." He frowns, his gun still pointing at me. "We need to clear the streets."

"Don't you know who I am?" I huff, trying to conceal my fear. "I'm District Twelve's escort, Effie Trinket, and I do not appreciate you pointing that thing at my person!"

"I don't care who you are. I just have orders to clear this area." He nudges me again. This time harder.

"Well I'd like to speak to your Head Peacekeeper! I really don't like how I'm being treated! Didn't your mother teach you anything about manners?" I scold folding my arms over my chest.

"Is there a problem here?"

A voice from behind me makes me turn. There, once again when I least expect it, stands Haymitch. He doesn't even look at me when he steps forward, pushing in front of me so that now he's what's between me and the gun.

"Just trying to do my job." The Peacekeeper informs him. "And this woman is making it rather difficult to do so."

"I apologize. She's not exactly right in the mind." Not exactly in the right mind? How dare he! "I'll get her out of your hair." He has a firm grip on my arm but I decide now is not the best time to struggle.

The Peacekeeper nods, his gun still pointed at Haymitch and me. "Just get her out of here." Haymitch nods and proceeds to pull me away from the Justice Building and rude Peacekeeper.

Once we're out of eyesight and earshot, he let's go of my arm. I'm about to snap at him for him being so impolite when the look on his face stops me.

"What the hell were you doing back there? Trying to get yourself killed?'' He points to the Justice Building. "That man wouldn't have hesitated a second to shoot you." I open my mouth to speak but he continues. "He doesn't give a damn if your from the Capitol, Princess. Haven't you realized that yet? If I hadn't had shown up when I did, they'd be washing your blood off the steps as we speak! Stop trying to defend your honor and start thinking!"

"I was only trying to see the Justice Building." The words come out quiet. "I wasn't bothering anybody."

"That may have been but if you haven't noticed, people don't seem to inclined to welcome us here." He's lowered his voice now. "Just think next time, Princess. I'm sure there are many escorts lining up to take your place but you're the only one who seems to have the power to annoy me enough into doing things."

I can't help but smile at his words. So he does care about me-or rather, I think he does.

"Alright, I'll be more careful and only go looking at buildings when I'm invited to do so." He gives some sort of a half smile by my response.

"We better get back to the others. I told them I was taking a bathroom break. If we don't hurry, they'll probably think I've died or something." He snorts, "Wouldn't be surprised if that was the place I was going to die in, the bathroom I mean."

"No," I crinkle my nose a little, "We wouldn't want them to think that..."

We walk back to where the others are located in silence. I'm tempted numerous times to ask him what made him come looking for me but I decide against it. Maybe some things are better left unsaid. Besides, I'd rather not have him yelling at me again... Even so, I'm touched he came out to get me. Maybe there is some decency in that man buried somewhere under all of that alcohol. The question was, how often would it reveal itself to me?


	8. The Essence of Dance

Chapter eight: The Essence of Dance

For such a poor district as Eleven was said to be, they sure masked that fact with the amount of food they presented to us at that night's banquet. Of course, it could hardly be compared to what awaited us at the Capitol, but the attempt was much appreciated. The meal mostly consisted of fruits and vegetables-the products Eleven was very plentiful in, and of course your usual meats and wines.

"Octavia, would you be a dear and please pass me that bowl of sugared blackberries?"

And probably for the eighth or ninth time tonight, I am handed the bowl of blackberries. Thankfully, no one questions my large appetite for them. Those who know the reason stay silent and those who don't really don't seem to take notice.

"Well, I think today went really well." I look to all the occupants of the table with a smile. "The first speeches are always the hardest. Now that you both," I look to Katniss and Peeta who haven't spoken a word since we sat down. "Have gotten through that, the rest will go by smoothly."

They give each other a sideways glance before turning back to their plates. Why on earth were they acting like Avoxes? Had Haymitch said something to worry them? I try to assure myself it's just exhaustion as I gear my attention towards the awaiting blackberries on my plate. Just a few more hours and we'd be back on the train and they could rest.

The meal goes on in silence with the occasional bang from one of Haymitch's empty bottles of wine hitting the table. Everything about this particular tour stop has the sense of uneasiness and I'm more than glad when the time comes for us to depart. Unfortunately, they don't even allow us to thank the mayor for his hospitality as the Peacekeepers escort-and I use that term very lightly, us back to the train.

"Well then, I can't say I'll miss them." I frown as the Peacekeepers slam the train door behind them. "They were extremely rude. No wonder they were stationed in a district such as this."

Peeta, whose supporting a very wasted Haymitch, glances behind his shoulder. "Well, thankfully we won't have to deal with them again. Maybe it'll be better in Ten." Haymitch mumbles something that's too garbled to comprehend and Peeta adjusts his hold on him. "I better get him to his room before he looses total consciousness."

"Do you need any help carrying?" Cinna offers as Haymitch slumps in Peeta's arms. "He looks rather heavy."

Peeta good-naturedly shakes his head. "I'm used to carrying dead weight back at the bakery. I'll be fine."

I frown softly, my eyes casting down upon Haymitch. His clothes are stained various colors from the wines he consumed at dinner and the smell of liquor emanating from him would surely fill the entire train if not properly taken care of. As much as I don't want to, I feel the need to step up and offer my services to Peeta.

"At least let me help straighten him up." All eyes are on me now. "Well, I can't have him smelling up the place now can I?" I say rather defensively.

"Alright, that'd be great. Thanks, Effie." Peeta's words are mixed with confusion and gratitude as we make our way down the hall to Haymitch's room. "Really, Effie, I completely understand if you don't want to help. I've done this before with him."

"Oh no worries, Peeta." I open the door and he pulls Haymitch inside. "When I was a little girl, Mother got me a dog for my birthday. Damsel was always getting herself quite dirty which resulted in frequent baths. I must say, I became quite the groomer when it came to her cleanliness. Bathing a dog can't be much different than bathing Haymitch."

Peeta laughs as he sets Haymitch down on the bed, "No, I suppose it's not too different." He gives me a smile before turning to Haymitch. "I suggest you take off your jacket." He tells me as he begins to undress Haymitch. "This sort of job can be quite messy."

I quickly discard my jacket, gloves, hat, and my fine diamond earrings on the back table-after of course, scooting aside the empty bottles which had previously occupied it. When I turn around Peeta has already fully unclothed Haymitch and now tosses the dirty outfit he had been wearing aside. Heat rushes to my cheeks and I can't help but blush with embarrassment when seeing Haymitch like this.

"Are you sure you're okay with doing this, Effie?" Peeta's looking at me with concern. "I'm more than alright with cleaning him up on my own. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything."

This makes me blush even more. I don't want Peeta to get the impression that I couldn't handle something as silly as bathing a naked man. So, I politely shake my head no and give him a smile.

"I'm completely fine with it, Peeta. Now..." I look towards the bathroom. "Shall I get the bath water started and you bring him in?"

It doesn't take long for the bath to fill and Peeta has Haymitch in within a few minutes. Haymitch, completely oblivious to what's happening, begins to sink beneath the water and it takes both Peeta and me to get him seated again properly. There really wasn't much difference with bathing a dog and bathing Haymitch. Only the fact that, unlike a dog, he doesn't thrash about in the water.

"I apologize for how we were treated in District Eleven today." I tell Peeta as I do my best to shampoo Haymitch's hair. "I was appalled by how rude they were to us."

"It's fine, Effie. It wasn't your fault anyways." He's scrubbing at the dirt underneath Haymitch's nails. "Hopefully the Peacekeepers in Ten will be more sensible to us." He exhales and sets the hand he was working on down. "Can't seem to get the dirt out from his nail."

"Here," I say scooting to where Peeta kneels. "We'll switch places. I'm some sort of an expert on this sort of thing. Or rather, I've seen my manicurist do it so many times I believe I could open my own salon." I take Haymitch's callused hand in mine and begin to work on his nails.

"Thanks." Peeta says graciously taking my previous seat beside Haymitch's head.

I soon finish with the first hand and reach for the second. Haymitch grunts in his sleep, shifting slightly from where he sits in the tub. His hand just brushes against my stomach. The light pressure from his fingertips is just enough to make me jump in surprise.

"Effie?" Peeta's looks over at me worriedly. "Are you okay? What happened?"

I don't know why I was so startled by Haymitch's movement. Maybe it was because he touched my stomach. My hand travels to the spot where his fingers brushed against and rests there. It's probably no bigger than a blackberry itself but it's growing fast, or so the pamphlets I have say. Apparently it, the baby, is moving it's arms and legs very rapidly but I won't be able to feel it for awhile. It's a strange concept to think about. The idea of a being, a baby, growing inside of me. And I'm not too sure what to think or how to feel about it.

"Effie?" I turn to see Peeta eyeing me with even more concern. His gaze focused on my hand. "Is...everything okay?"

I take my hand off my stomach quickly. He doesn't know about it yet. Neither does Katniss. And I'm not too sure if I even want them to know.

"Yes," I breath turning my attention back to Haymitch's nails. "Perfectly fine."

We don't speak for the rest of the time it takes to clean Haymitch. Finally, after several attempts to get some clothes on him, we have him him tucked away in bed. I take a moment to look at him while he sleeps. His face is still, forehead relaxed of any wrinkles, mouth uncurved. But even still, he seems troubled. And some part of me has the urge to comfort him. But from what?

"I'm going to go lay down and see if I can get some sleep." Peeta says quietly as he takes a step towards the door.

"I'll be doing the same in a minute." I tell him. "I think I may just check to make sure he has something clean to wear tomorrow. I'd rather him not go putting those filthy clothes back on."

Peeta nods as take a hold of the door knob. "I'll see you in the morning, Effie. Sleep well."

"Same to you." And I watch as he exits leaving me and Haymitch alone.

I had no intent of checking for clean clothes for Haymitch, rather just having an excuse for staying an extra moment. In a few moments, Haymitch is snoring loudly and I'm surprised he hasn't woken himself up because of it. Inhaling, I reach down and touch his hand for just a split second.

"Sleep well, Haymitch, and may you not ruin Peeta's and my hard work with cleaning you."

I step back and go to the table. Gathering up my articles of clothing, I glance behind my shoulder once more at Haymitch before leaving. Some part of me wishes he had said goodnight back.

xXx

Days pass as we go from district to district giving speeches, attending banquets, taking pictures. It's no surprise I barely have a minute to myself. Every waking hour is spent planning and prepping and soon I find myself getting only a few hours of sleep every night. Portia expresses her concern about this to me but I merely brush it off saying that there will be time to rest after the tour. Thankfully, I somehow manage to get everyone to the Capitol on time and by evening we are at President Snow's mansion for the exquisite banquet everyone has been raving about.

"Now make sure you're near the cameras at all times." I tell Katniss and Peeta with a smile. "You want to make sure they capture you both when important people come up to converse with you."

I'm not sure why I was telling them this. Since Peeta's surprising proposal to Katniss when they were interviewed by Caesar earlier, at least another two or three dozen camera crews had been allowed into the banquet to film Panem's most adored couple. There was no way there would be one second when they weren't on camera.

"We'll make sure of it, Effie."

And I'm not sure if it's the atmosphere but Peeta's words seem somewhat distant. This morning when I woke up, I have to admit I wasn't feeling as well as I usually do. Though it was most likely due to the fact that Haymitch's liquor reek had once more made it's way into my nose. The smell did have a tendency to make me quite nauseous depending on what state my stomach was in.

"Well, if you two have an emergency such as a wardrobe malfunction and such, I'll be around and Portia and Cinna shouldn't be too far." I peer over my shoulder towards the large bar that President Snow has set up to resemble what they call the Northern Lights and exhale. "And you know where to find Haymitch." They give a nod in response and I smile. "Now, just go and have a great time. Enjoy the food and music. After all, it's not everyday you are given the gift of being in the President's mansion."

I watch as they walk off hand and hand towards the many tables of food. Surprisingly, even though the food looks so delicious, I find myself not at all hungry. Actually, I haven't been hungry all day. Just hot. Really hot. Fanning myself, I decide to take a look around and see if there are any of my friends about.

"Effie Trinket! Well my word! I was hoping to find you here!"

I turn and to my surprise there is District Eleven's escort, Desmonda, hurrying over to me. She's dyed herself a rich gold and her normal long silver eyelashes now consist of mockingjay feathers. She looks marvelous as she strides forward pulling me into a hug. I hug back beginning to feel slightly dizzy. Maybe it was her new perfume.

"Effie, darling! How are you? It's be too long! Far too long!" She kisses both of my cheeks. "How have you been, dear? I've been watching you with those victors of your's. Do you like my outfit? I based it off Katniss's mockingjay pin! I thought it would be a nice touch for this event along with that tattoo of mine I showed you."

I try to catch her every question but she's talking so fast it's rather hard to. Not to mention the rising temperature of the banquet hall. I'm surprised no one has complained about how hot it's getting. One can hardly comprehend with all of this heat.

"I've been lovely, thank you for asking." I smile as I adjust the sleeves of my dress. "I've been missing the Capitol terribly though. But I must say, seeing those ruins in person was an event I shall never forget."

"Oh do tell. Do tell." She takes me by my hand and leads me over to one of the many couches.

"They were absolutely amazing." I say as we, to my delight, sit. "The history behind the walls of the Justice Building. It sends shivers down your spine."

"Oh I wish I had been there with you." She laughs clasping my hand in her's. "I envy your luck with seeing those. You have an upper hand in the style since you've seen the real thing now. You'll give me fashion pointer tips of course, won't you?"

For some odd reason my heart was racing in my chest. The sound of each beat thumps in my ears as I try to focus on what Desmonda is saying. "I'm sorry?" I ask slightly confused, "The music's rather loud in here. I'm having trouble hearing."

She laughs and shakes her head. "Oh my dear, Effie." She pats my hand. "Come, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

She pulls me up and before I realize it, we're half way across the hall. We're weaving in and out of couples dancing until we're at one of the many food tables. A man standing over a bowl of what looks to be chilled peach soup turns and walks towards us. Desmonda squeaks with excitement.

"Effie, this is Plutarch Heavensbee. He's this year's head Gamemaker."

The man takes my hand and kisses it gently. "Ah, Ms. Trinket. I believe I just danced with your victor, Katniss Everdeen."

I give him a smile, blinking a few times when he becomes blurry in my vision. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Heavensbee. And might I say congratulations. What an honor it is to be given the job of Head Gamemaker."

Plutarch smiles warmly. "Well, I hope I make a good first impression with this year's game." The music changes into a slower paced song. Plutarch looks pass me for a minute before turning his attention back to me. "Say, Ms. Trinket, or may I call you Effie?" I nod and he continues, "Well, I do enjoy a good dance. Would you care to join me in one, Effie?"

I really just want to go and sit down. The heat has become almost unbearable and the sound of my heart racing is starting to give me headache. But to turn down a gentleman is not at all proper. So against my better judgement I suppose, I smile warmly and nod.

"A dance would be quite lovely."

We go to the dance floor and he pulls me close. I try to ignore the fact that the ground seems to move underneath me as we turn, gliding gracefully with the music.

"Your tour has been going well so far I hope?" He asks as we spin underneath one of the many stars dangling from the ceiling.

"I have no complaints." I try to sound cheerful but the words come out meekly.

We're turning again and my stomach twists with nausea. I swallow hard, trying to keep down the bile rising to my throat. I don't feel well at all but the music, the thumping of my heart. Everything seems to be getting faster.

"I think I need to sit down." I croak out as he spins me around once more. "I feel rather ill."

But he appears not to have heard me as we dance further onto the floor. My legs wobble as I try to keep up with his pace, finding it harder to do so with each step. The room is spinning now and the music grows more distant. Was the song finally ending?

"Effie? Are you alright?"

I blink rapidly as Plutarch's face-or rather I think that blurry shape is it, comes into my vision. I open my mouth to reply but my knees give way and I crumple downward. My hearts racing as the room spins faster and faster, the shadows of what I think are people hurrying over to me. There's a loud noise. Someone's shouting? I'm not too sure what's real and what's not.

I'm sinking now into the darkness. My grasp of reality gone only to be replaced by the sickly sweet desire of silence.


	9. Forms of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please go to http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7989648/1/Of-Perfume-Liquor-and-Baby-Bottles for the entire story (or what I have finished so far :) )

My body feels heavy. That's the first think I notice when I start to come to. No longer can I hear the sound of music, the chatters from the banquet guests, or the ungodly sound of my heart pounding in my head. Instead, all of these noises are replaced by the faint mummers of someone talking to somebody else. Who they are I'm not too sure yet. My eyelids refuse to open. Like everything else, they feel heavy. I'm forced to just lay there and attempt to listen to the conversation.

"Damn woman doesn't know how to slow down when you tell her to." The words sound slurred but maybe it's just my hearing. Something about the voice is too familiar. Far too familiar. If my thoughts weren't so scattered perhaps I could put my finger on it.

"It's not your fault this happened. Don't beat yourself up because of it." A new voice, softer than the first. A woman maybe? And what was she talking about the other one blaming himself for what happened? If only my eyes had the will to open.

"Who said I was beating myself up?" The voice sounds even closer now, louder. Was it that they were coming nearer to me or was I just becoming more alert? "I never said that I considered it my fault that she passed out right in the middle of the dance floor. Interrupted my drinking, that's for sure."

Only one person would say that. Haymitch. But why is he even here, where ever "here" is? I attempt once again to force my eyes open but to no avail. They must've given me something for my fainting spell. If this night couldn't possibly get any worse. I can only hope that no cameras caught my loss of consciousness. The horror of that being broadcasted throughout Panem would certainly be the death of me.

"If only I had known what condition she was in, I would have offered to help more." A third voice enters the conversation, one that is saturated with guilt. "How far along is she? The doctor didn't say before he left to attend someone else." So they knew of my pregnancy. My heart begins to be faster at the unanswered question of who this person whom knew my secret was. How did they find out? Did everyone know?

"Eight weeks or from what she's told me that's how far along I believe she is." There's pressure on my hand as if someone has taken a hold of it. "Where are Katniss and Peeta? Surely they heard of what happened."

"Unlikely they did." The only voice I can recognize, that of which belongs to Haymitch, replies. "The whole goddamn place is so crowded and I highly doubt it's the first time someone has collapsed tonight. There probably out there somewhere still dancing." Well, at least the victors hadn't been disrupted. I would've felt horrible if I had ruined this wonderful experience of being in the President's mansion for them.

"Portia says the baby is your's. Effie didn't tell me that you two were-"

"We aren't together." Haymitch cuts the voice off at once. "Princess here can't hold her liquor. Two drunks can't be trusted together you know."

Finally I muster the strength to open my eyes. It takes a few blinks for everything to come together. A tiny white room. Three faces that I now see belong to voices of Haymitch, Portia, and Cinna. Two of them, Portia and Cinna, look very relieved to see me awake. Haymitch on the other hand looks at me with a mixed expression of anger and annoyance.

"Don't even try to move, Princess." Haymitch grumbles, his hand pressing my right shoulder down as I attempt to sit up. "I'll get them to stick you again if you do."

Stick me again? So they did drug me. The nerve of some people. Inhaling deeply, I throw Haymitch an unpleasant look before turning my head towards Cinna and Portia. Perhaps they can explain to me everything that has happened without adding in snide comments Haymitch is so well known for.

"You passed out." Portia tells me what I already know. "The doctor thinks it's due from stress and lack of sleep. He gave you a little something to get your blood pressure down. It's nothing that could possibly harm the baby, of course." My eyes travel to Cinna and Portia seems to take notice in my interest as to why he's also here. "Plutarch came and retrieved us immediately after you fell. Of course, I, and forgive me but I only had your best interest in mind, told them of your pregnancy. I wasn't sure if that had been the cause of your fainting spell so I needed to make sure that Cinna and Plutarch conveyed that information to the doctor. After they had gone off, I went to find Haymitch at the bar." I look up to see Haymitch frowning deeply at me. "And after getting him, we went to find Cinna and Plutarch who of course were with you. Plutarch only left a few minutes ago. The party's coming to an end and he agreed to escort Peeta and Katniss back to the train. We didn't want them to worry so he'll only say that you, Haymitch, Cinna and I had some quick business to attend to."

"How are you feeling, Effie?" Cinna asks softly, his brown eyes full of concern.

"Fine." But the word comes out weakly. "Plutarch needn't bother with escorting the victors back. I am more than capable of doing it myself." I start to sit up but once again, Haymitch's hand pushes on my shoulder.

"You will be doing no such thing, Princess." He narrows his eyes. "And you can forget about that schedule of your's too. I took the liberty of taking care of it."

My eyes go wide. What did he mean he took care of my schedule? Frantic, I quickly look around the room only to find no clipboard. Heart racing, I shove his arm away from me and stand up quickly.

"Haymitch Abernathy! You give my schedule back right now! You have no right to take care of it!" I jab a finger towards his chest. "If any harm has come to it, I swear I'll..."

As usual, he interrupts me. "Does it help that I disposed of it properly? You're always telling me to be more proper after all."

I nearly stumble backwards but Haymitch grabs my forearms before I can do so. I don't know what to say. I'm literally in shock. My poor schedule. What had he done to it? Drenched it in liquor and torched it? Used it as toilet paper? The possibilities are endless. A surge of anger rushes through me and I begin to pound my fists against Haymitch's chest.

"You horrible man! How could you? How dare you! That was my schedule! Mine! I worked weeks on it!" I don't seem to be hurting him. On the contrary, he's looking at me with a slight expression of amusement. This only flames my anger. "You have no idea the catastrophic events you may have caused by destroying it! How will everyone know when lunch is when there is no schedule?"

"I'm going to take her back to the train before she passes out again." And without any warning, I'm hoisted over Haymitch's shoulder, kicking and shouting like a immature child. But at the moment, manners don't matter to me. I only wish to avenge the life of my poor schedule.

"Put me down! I demand you put me down!" I try to wriggle free as he carries me down a surprisingly empty hallway.

"Stop squirming. You'll only embarrass yourself, Princess." He grumbles as he pushes through two large doors. "I'm doing you a huge favor. You should thank me."

"Thank you?" I begin to laugh, "For what? Ruining everything I've worked for? You deserve no thanks! You don't deserve anything! You're a cruel man, Haymitch Abernathy! A very cruel man!"

"You really need to work on your insults, Princess. You're not the best when it comes to offending people."

We're out in the open air now. I can see over Haymitch's shoulder that the train has been lit up with various bright colors. Much further up than where we are is a crowd of at least several thousand people. I know at once they are gathering around Peeta and Katniss as they exit the mansion. Probably taking a few last pictures before we leave. I'm a little at ease with the thought they, the cameramen and important guests, haven't noticed my disappearance. After all, the focus of the night is around Peeta and Katniss. My flaw of fainting would have hopefully gone unseen.

"I do hope their exit was extravagant since I wasn't allowed to be there to make sure of it." I say coldly as Haymitch steps up and into the furthermost train car. "I can only pray Cinna and Portia got there in time to make sure everything went smoothly. If the victors caused any embarrassment to us, I will be sure to let everyone know you are to blame."

"You do that, Princess."

"Oh stop calling me Princess. I have a name you know." I'm growing tired as he stops in front of a door that I can only assume is to my room. "It's Effie Trinket! And it's a very fine, proper name my late mother gave to me nearly thirty eight years ago! It will be thirty eight years in three months! And you will not go repeating to anyone my age!"

Ignoring me, he opens the door and walks inside. I can hear the crowds cheering outside as he sets me down carefully on my bed. The urge to fall asleep slowly washes over me as I watch him go to the window and pull the curtains closed.

"Where are your pajamas?" His words catch me by surprise. Why was he asking such a thing? "Well if you don't tell me, I'll have to go digging through all of your drawers and I know you don't want that.'' He says gruffly when I don't respond fast enough.

"Second drawer on the right." I say quietly still very confused as to why he was doing this. "May I ask why?"

He doesn't answer only pulls a voluminous violet nightgown out and holds it out to me. The corners of my mouth twitch into a frown as I take it from him slowly. I wait for him to leave but still he doesn't move.

"If you think I'm changing while you're in here than you most certainly are wrong."

"Well I'm not planning on leaving, Princess." He turns around so his back is to me. "This is the best I can do. How do I know you're not going to rush right out of this room to look for your schedule the minute I step out? If you faint again we'll all be forced to spend another damn hour at this hell hole. I will not allow that to happen."

President Snow's mansion was far from any hole in hell as far as I am concerned. But the tone of Haymitch's voice tells me he's not kidding so much to my dismay, I quickly change out of my evening clothes and into the gown.

"There, I'm in my pajamas. Can you leave now please?" I'm almost pleading now as he scoops up my previous articles of clothing and carelessly tosses them into the hamper.

"I'm afraid not. Not until this train leaves the station." He's holding out his hands towards me. "Your wig."

I look at him bewildered. "I'm sorry?"

He groans, rolling his eyes. "Yes, your wig, Princess. I may not know a lick about fashion but I do know people don't tend to sleep in their wigs. Now hand it over."

"No." I say firmly. "You'd probably just send it off like you did my schedule."

"I'm not going to throw your wig out the window. I don't want to have to deal with another of your tantrums. Now if you don't give it to me, I'll take it off your head myself." And I have no choice but to give it to him.

"There, are you happy?" I snap as the locks of blonde hair I had piled underneath my wig fall to just below my shoulders. "You've destroyed my schedule, taken my wig, what else do you want?" That's when I see him eyeing my natural hair with a curious expression. "What? What are you looking at?" I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as I heat with embarrassment.

"Nothing." He states quietly, setting my wig on the dresser. "Just not used to seeing you without your wig."

I'm not sure if he meant that as a compliment but before I can ask, I am interrupted by the sound of the train whistle. There's the quick jerk of the train lurching forward and in a matter of seconds, we're off. Haymitch turns to leave once I assume he's satisfied that there is no chance of me jumping off to try to salvage whatever's left of my schedule. As he reaches for the handle I find myself calling out to him.

"Do I look bad without my wig?"

He turns his head and looks back at me. "No." He tells me, "You look...normal." And before I can get another word out of him, he leaves.

I sit back against the pillows on my bed. Normal? Was that meant to be a compliment? In the Capitol, normal was considered poor fashion but I highly doubt Haymitch meant it as that. Shaking my head, I pull the covers around me, the need for sleep becoming overpowering. If he wasn't too hungover in the morning and I wasn't too busy remaking my schedule, maybe I would ask him what he truly meant by his words. But for now, I needed rest. And I allow my body to succumb to the desire of sleep.


End file.
